Foster Care
by praiseofshadows
Summary: Anzu and Kaiba reach a certain understanding, even if they have a long way to go. Part 10 of 10. Kaiba&Anzu.
1. I

**Disclaimer:** The Y, the G, and the O are not mine.

xxxxxxx

"Mokuba-kun, it's all right to say what you really think." The voice was gentle, professional, and perfectly pitched to calm the most anxious child.

"It's fine, really." Mokuba's voice rose a bit, making him sound younger than his eleven years. "It's just not…." The rest of his words trailed off, and he swallowed. Hard.

"Not what?"

"Not what Nii-sama would make." He said it as if it were his death sentence, and his eyes were very bright indeed. He rose from the table. "I'm going to be late for school."

Mazaki Yoshiko sighed. She, too, rose from the table and began to clear it of breakfast dishes. Her daughter stood to help her.

"I've never seen Mokuba-kun so quiet," Anzu ventured as she rinsed the soup bowls in the sink and shoved them into the dishwasher

Her mother handed her another bowl and said, "I keep forgetting you know him." Yoshiko frowned in thought. "I suppose I should have requested him to be reassigned; you're too deeply involved, but everyone thought it would be better if he stayed in Domino."

They stayed silent after that.

Mokuba clattered back into the kitchen, teeth freshly brushed and book-bag in hand. "I'm leaving now," he said.

"Do you want lunch?'

Mokuba looked at the bento box Yoshiko was cautiously holding out to him. "No thanks," he said finally. "I won't be hungry." He looked at Anzu, as if he wanted to say something before deciding against it.

"I'll say hello to Kaiba-kun for you," Anzu offered.

For a moment Mokuba's face was a near-perfect mimic of his brother's at its most expressionless. "Don't bother. He probably won't show up anyway." His mask cracked, and the naked grief and longing beneath it were plain. It had been Kaiba Seto's blatant disregard for truancy laws that had gotten the two of them into this mess after all.

Domino High School had finally had enough of Kaiba Seto's bad grades, bad attitude, and inability to grasp what precisely was meant by the term "mandatory attendance." The Family Court had had a field day: emancipated minor Kaiba Seto might be, but his inability to provide a stable childhood for himself cast into doubt his ability to do the same for the other child in his custody.

Mokuba had screamed and kicked and bitten at anyone who tried to touch him when the court ordered his temporary removal from the Kaiba main house. And this, of course, hadn't helped the case Kaiba Seto's arbitrators were trying to present. Kaiba Mokuba was obviously in an unhealthy situation, child services argued.

Mazaki Yoshiko was known for her ability to coax even the most reluctant child into revealing the truth about his or her living conditions. She used the same blend of perceptive insight and general empathy that her daughter's friends would have instantly recognized. Kaiba Mokuba's file was hastily dropped on her desk, and she became his primary social worker.

Mokuba had not taken to her as child services had hoped; in fact, Mokuba had not taken to anyone. He had stopped his damaging temper tantrums, evidently realizing that his outbursts were playing into child services' hands. His week in Domino's main children's home only served to keep his thin lips pressed tightly together, saying not a word to even his roommate.

The Kaiba Corp lawyers had managed to get him out of there. Kaiba Seto had been wraith-like in his dark suit, confirming several social workers' suspicions that he was both undernourished and clinically depressed and thus ill-suited to even have custody over himself. Kaiba Seto had refused to have his brother remain in the children's home; if he must be temporarily (the arbitrators stressed this term) separated from his brother and his home, it was imperative that Mokuba be placed in familiar surroundings. Anything else would be detrimental to his development.

Mokuba had been moved to the Mazaki residence the following day.


	2. II

xxxxxxx

Anzu tagged along at Kaiba's heels as Homeroom Z made its way back from the track. It was rare that Kaiba even attended P.E., and he was only doing it—as he had made very clear at the beginning of each and every class—because of the incompetent civil service that couldn't wait to meddle into unsuspecting citizens' lives. Anzu disliked the way Kaiba's lip curled when he insulted her mother, but she understood Kaiba's pain. She also understood his sudden desire to excel in all those subjects teachers had graded him poorly.

Such as P.E. Kaiba, out of pure spite, had beaten every school record today out on the track, flying past the out-of-breath jocks as if all the demons of hell were after him.

Perhaps they were.

Anzu had reached a conclusion about Kaiba: under other circumstances, he could have been the darling of Domino High. His IQ tested off the charts (she knew this from the shoptalk of her mother's friends), he was a terrific athlete, and with his looks, he could've modeled for his own company's advertisements.

She knew that if she had made that analysis, Kaiba could as well. He had always been the best in Homeroom Z at logical reasoning. She had no idea why he hadn't even attempted to win over Domino High; he could have easily done it. And it wouldn't have taken much effort: he wasn't even out of breath by the time P.E. finished.

So why did he make such an effort to be an asshole?

She had watched from across the track as Yugi said something to Kaiba and had frowned when it was obvious that Kaiba said something extremely uncomplimentary back. She hadn't been close enough to hear the words, but she had heard enough of his words in the past to imagine. Jounouchi had heard though, and Honda had had to forcibly step between Jounouchi and Kaiba to keep the two boys from coming to blows.

Now, as she followed him, she wondered if Kaiba really didn't know another way to act. And when she thought of Mokuba, by turns angry at and desperate for his adored older brother, she felt not rage at Kaiba but pity. For he really did have only himself to blame.

Another loss for Kaiba Seto.

Kaiba knew she was behind him, and she knew he knew, but she didn't expect him to acknowledge her.

"Spit it out," Kaiba growled, not bothering to turn around.

"I want to talk to you," Anzu said.

"Huh."

He didn't sound overly angry, but he didn't sound interested either. He was wary, but Kaiba was always wary. And he had to know what she was planning to discuss.

"Mokuba—" She hesitated.

Kaiba stopped suddenly, pivoting on one foot so she was suddenly face-to-face with his chest.

This close, she could smell the sweat that clung to his uniform. She knew he could similarly smell her. She couldn't afford to feel embarrassed.

"You have no right—" Kaiba began, but he cut himself off. His posture shifted; no longer was his spine as ramrod stiff as it was when he dueled. He seemed to fold in on himself, and Anzu found herself facing a fellow sixteen-year old.

"Mokuba-kun misses you," she said softly, head bowed. She stared at their sneakers, both pairs the regulation model.

"H-how is he?"

"He's still…settling in."

"Mokuba doesn't settle in."

She opened her mouth to retort to that, temper flaring unexpectedly in the midst of what had been sympathy. Kaiba never failed to do that. The minute anyone even began to see things from his side, he'd shoot off his mouth. And even though she had known that and had sworn from the onset of this conversation that she would ignore it, her eyes narrowed in anger.

"Mazaki! Kaiba! Save your dates for after school!"

Sympathy won out after all, perhaps due to the mutual embarrassment of being singled out by the P.E. coach. "Eat with us at lunch," she urged. "We can talk then."

She began to jog back towards the school. She didn't expect Kaiba to answer, and she wasn't surprised that he beat her to the locker rooms.


	3. III

xxxxxxx

Anzu frowned as she turned the key in the lock. She could hear voices: one low pitched and quiet, the other just on the-right-side-of-brittle to still be considered cheerful.

She knew what it sounded like, but Kaiba wouldn't dare come – not here in her parents' apartment, not now, and definitely not when he knew Domino's social workers were just itching to revoke his claim on Mokuba's custody. They might not be able to overturn the decision to emancipate Kaiba himself, but make no mistake: they still viewed him as an irresponsible, selfish child that had no business being the legal guardian to another – least of all an eleven-year old boy.

She pushed open the front door.

"Mokuba-kun?" she called into the apartment. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her school satchel.

A giggle and then, "Yep. I'm here!"

Whenever Mokuba sounded like that, Kaiba couldn't be more than an arm's length away from his adoring little brother.

Anzu took a deep breath and walked the few steps from the hallway to the kitchen.

Mokuba sat atop the kitchen counter. He seemed to be in the process of making a peanut butter sandwich. He had already changed out of his school uniform, and he had released his hair from its regulation tie.

Kaiba stood to Mokuba's right, leaning up against the countertop with his arms crossed. He must have driven straight from school in order to beat Anzu to the apartment. He was still in his uniform, and he hadn't even bothered to unbutton the jacket.

"You're not supposed to be here," Anzu blurted out.

Kaiba shrugged. "I thought I should see how Mokuba was…settling in." He said the last two words as if they were particularly filthy.

"That's why I thought we could talk about it over lunch." She would not get angry. Oh, hell, who was she kidding? Of course she was angry. Kaiba was ruining all his chances. Again. And Mokuba would pay the consequences. "But you didn't show."

"Nisama brought me over detergent," Mokuba said, smacking two pieces of peanut butter coated bread together and handing them to his brother.

Anzu realized she had never actually seen Kaiba eat.

"He's allergic to the scented kind," Kaiba added. It was an unexpected peace offering, Anzu knew, because Kaiba never offered additional information if he could help it. He bit into the sandwich.

Mokuba had a rather satisfied expression on his face. He looked like the proud parent of a toddler. He might at any moment burst out, "Look! He's eating on his own! Isn't it wonderful?"

Kaiba chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. He could have been any second year high school boy, home from school and indulging in an afternoon snack.

He wasn't just any second year high school boy. He was Kaiba Seto. And that was the problem.

"We would have bought it," she said, finding herself on the defensive. She wondered if her mother knew; her mother had to know Mokuba's allergies. They must be in his file. Or would they be? There was no telling how much Kaiba may have altered both his and his brother's records. Years ago, when the Kaiba Mokuba custody case had first gone to the Family Court, there had been rumours of tampering. Kaiba had been an incredible hacker, even then, and the years had only improved upon both his skills and his belief that no one should know anything about the Kaiba brothers.

"Mokuba, you know that if you need anything all you have to do is tell my mom, right?" she pressed.

Mokuba gave a sort of half-shrug and didn't answer.

Kaiba had finished his sandwich and had begun walking out of the kitchen. "I've got a meeting with finance," he said. It was obviously an explanation aimed solely at Mokuba for his voice had lost any trace of its customary annoyance.

"Nii-sama!" Mokuba launched himself off the counter and scrambled after his brother. "Wait!"

Anzu didn't follow them into the hallway, but she could still hear. Mokuba was pleading now, and Kaiba was trying to calm him. There was a rustle of cloth, as if Kaiba had bent down to tie his shoes – or give Mokuba one final good-bye hug.

She heard the front door bang shut. And then she heard the sound of soft sobs.

Mokuba didn't return to the kitchen. Anzu sighed and began to screw the lid back on the peanut butter jar. She knew she should tell her mother that Kaiba had breached the visitation ban, but when her mother did arrive home, a few hours later, Anzu pressed her lips together and said nothing.

Mokuba didn't say anything either, but he smiled that night when Yoshiko asked him how his day had been.


	4. IV

**A/N:** Osaka-_ben_ is a dialect of Japanese hailing from (you guessed it!) Osaka.

xxxxxxx

The next day at school, Kaiba had his nose buried in one of those massive tomes he liked to carry around, and Anzu couldn't manage to catch his eye. And she knew Kaiba had planned it like that. Kaiba didn't want to discuss yesterday, and so Kaiba was going to make sure they didn't have an opportunity to discuss it.

Kaiba made himself scarce as soon as the lunch bell rang, and in P.E. he deliberately chose the most hardcore (and definitely all-male) soccer game to involve himself in. Jou and Honda – not to be outdone – joined him, and the three of them managed to get benched within ten minutes of playing.

"Typical," Anzu muttered.

"Huh?" Yugi asked. Anzu, Yugi, and Miho were all in the easiest of the soccer games, which involved more standing around than anything else.

"Nothing," Anzu said with a sigh. Then, "Yugi? What do you think of Kaiba-kun? Honestly?"

Yugi looked up at her, eyes suddenly too-old in his face, and Anzu knew she was staring at that thousand-year old soul behind them. "No matter how much he pretends, Kaiba is the most honorable person I know."

When she arrived at her apartment, her stomach gave a lurch at the thought of Kaiba being there again. But there was only Mokuba, sitting listlessly on the floor with what looked to be homework spread around him.

"Hey," she said, kneeling down to his level. "What's up?"

Mokuba shrugged.

"Your brother was at school again today."

"Wow. Two days in a row. That must be a new record." Mokuba managed to capture his brother's flat, sarcastic tone perfectly. Mokuba gave a very Kaiba-like sneer. "Kaiba Seto. The model student."

The smiling, laughing little boy from yesterday was gone.

"Well, in P.E., he got benched for pushing Jounouchi-kun into the goalie." Anzu strove to keep her voice light and teasing, but both she and Mokuba weren't surprised at the fact she failed.

"Yeah, he doesn't play well with others."

The awkward silence that followed marked the end of their conversation, and Anzu retreated to her bedroom.

"I'm home!" her mother called, startling Anzu from her trigonometry review. She looked up at her desk clock: it was only 16:00 – her mother was early. "Ah, Mokuba-kun," her mother was saying, and Anzu decided that Mokuba hadn't moved from his spot on the living room floor. "I'd like you to meet your aunt."

Anzu made it to the living room in time to watch the tableau unfold. Mokuba was still sitting, mouth open in shock. He tried to form words, but – for once – his voice, the weapon that had served him well through multiple kidnapping attempts, failed him.

"Anzu," said Yoshiko, noticing the way she was lingering in the hallway. "Would you bring us some tea?"

As Anzu brought in the tea, she looked at Mokuba and his aunt, Mokuba stiffly sitting on the sofa beside her.

Mokuba's aunt was nothing like either of the Kaibas: she was small, she spoke in Osaka-_ben_, and she had the most elaborately-tied _obi_ Anzu had ever seen outside of historical television dramas.

"I was very young when your mother ran off with your father," the woman as saying. "I wasn't even a high-school student yet. And then your mother went and had your brother –"

"Seto," Mokuba interrupted. "His name is Seto."

"Yes, Seto," she agreed, picking up the tea Anzu had poured for her and taking a sip. "And Father – that is to say, your grandfather – was so enraged, he had her written off the family records."

"But let me guess," Mokuba drawled, equilibrium apparently restored after the initial shock of seeing a relative (Anzu presumed) he didn't know he had. "He's dead, and you're old enough to think for yourself."

"Actually," Mokuba's aunt corrected him, "Your grandfather is very much alive, and he wants to take you in."

Mokuba jumped up, upsetting the tea, and Anzu scrambled after him to try and salvage her mother's china. "Where was he six years ago when my father died?" he demanded. "Where was he when his son beat my brother so badly the doctors thought he had brain damage? Where was he when his daughter-in-law left us at the Osaka Home for Boys? Where was he when _that_ man – "

And here Mokuba broke off, tears streaming down his face but shoulders shaking in such a way that assured Anzu that they were tears of rage and not of pain.

Mokuba's aunt seemed unperturbed at this, putting down her tea-cup, the only one saved from Mokuba's destructive outburst.

"What do you know of your father?"

"Captain Patrick O'Connor. United States Airforce, Japan. Shot down over North Korea. Missing-in-Action. Presumed dead."

That, Anzu reflected -- when the shock of learning, in a few simple sentences, what all of Domino had wanted to know for years, had worn off – wasn't that unexpected. Like herself, Kaiba was one of those kids that might or might not be a half. Mai, Jounouchi, and Yugi – despite their (dyed) blond hair, all were one-hundred percent Japanese, Mai and Yugi's eyes owing more to coloured contacts than freakish genes. Anzu, though, well Anzu's father – her birthfather, not the man she knew and loved and called Daddy – had been a Canadian exchange student who had left her mother knocked up and penniless.

Which was why Anzu's eyes were naturally blue. Just like, apparently, Kaiba's.

"Then you know," said Mokuba's aunt.

"Know what?" Mokuba asked.

And suddenly, for Anzu it had become somewhat personal. "You want Mokuba because he can pass," she said softly.

Mokuba's aunt nodded, mistaking Anzu's understanding for automatic agreement with the sentiment. "Father saw you on television. And he said – and it's true – that you look exactly like your mother Himeko."

Anzu watched as Mokuba grabbed at the locket Anzu knew hung just underneath his shirt. "So? She's dead." He held his head up high, nose tilted up just a touch, and Anzu had the oddest feeling she was looking at Kaiba. Which, after all, she was. "And we're not longer part of your family."

Mokuba's aunt just gave Mokuba a sad, little smile. "I hope we can change your mind."

Mokuba looked at Yoshiko. "No – you can't! The Family Court hasn't made any decisions yet!"

"The state is looking at all options, Mokuba. You knew that."

"But – "

"Mom –"

Mokuba's aunt rose up and smoothed down her _kimono_. "We're starting things off small. Just weekly meetings, until you get comfortable. Perhaps a visit. You'll finish up the school year here, of course."

And with that, she allowed Yoshiko to see her to the door.

Kaiba stood outside: dressed in the rattiest pair of jeans Anzu had ever seen and a leather bomber jacket that looked like it had been purchased for someone far broader than himself. He was a far cry from his usual pristine self; even his hair was wild.

"Kaiba-kun," Anzu breathed, but he didn't spare her a glance.

"I heard you were in the area," Kaiba said to his aunt instead, dropping into Osaka-_ben_. As if he didn't speak standard Tokyo dialect every day of his life.

"Did you?"

"I'm warning you only once, Chiaki: stay away from my brother."

"I'm sorry. Did the custody agreement change in the past minute? You're not allowed here, Seto-kun."

"Am I in that apartment?" Kaiba countered with that tight little smile that wasn't a smile at all.

"I think we all need to discuss this in the presence of our lawyers," Yoshiko said with the calm tones of a professional. "Kaiba-kun: your aunt is quite right. You are not supposed to be here.

"On the other hand, Inoue-san, Kaiba-kun's custody has been suspended, not permanently revoked.

"We all have a court date next week. I think we should pick up this conversation there." She glanced from one to the other. "Before we do anything we regret."

Inoue Chiaki – for that, Anzu now knew, was her name – took the hint, and she attempted to kneel before Mokuba to say her goodbyes, but Mokuba only glared stonily at her until she retreated to the safety of the elevator. Kaiba, on the other hand, remained exactly where he was, hands on his lean hips.

"How could you let that woman near Mokuba?" he demanded of Yoshiko.

"We are not discussing this now, Kaiba-kun," Yoshiko said sternly. "Go home." Then she sighed. "What possessed you to come _here_? Dressed like _that_?" She sounded, Anzu realized, less like an irate state official and more like a mother.

Kaiba ignored her. "I want to make an appointment," he said flatly."

"Kaiba-kun – "

"You're my social worker, aren't you? I want to make an appointment."

Mokuba blanched. "You are such a fucking hypocrite," he bit out, voice so strangled that it wasn't recognizable. And with that, he retreated to the apartment, slamming the door with such violence that Anzu was surprised it didn't clatter of its hinges.

"Listen carefully to me," Yoshiko said. "I want you to go home, and more importantly get _clean_, and if you are serious about seeing me, you will call me during _normal_ business hours to make an appointment. You will go to school every day. You will study. You will not come to my home dressed like a thug. You will not harass your aunt. You will be a model child.

"Is that clear?"

"I'm not –"

"I said: is that _clear_?" She crossed her arms across her chest. "We've played it by your rules for the last four years. And the state's let you slide and let you slide, and they're not going to let you anymore."

"I want my brother back."

"I know. And I'm trying to help, but you're making it very, very difficult." And with that, Yoshiko turned and entered the apartment, shutting the door, and leaving Anzu and Kaiba standing in the hallway.

It wasn't like they planned it or even asked each other, but the two of them had wound up on the stoop of the convenience store down the block from Anzu's apartment building. Anzu wasn't even wearing real shoes, just her house slippers, and Kaiba – well, he looked terrible. The two of them weren't talking, just holding cans of coffee Kaiba had purchased for them.

"So…" Anzu began.

"…yeah?"

"Is the jacket your father's?"

"Yeah. S'pose the United States Airforce insignia gave it away?"

"Just a bit."

"I wore it to piss her off."

"Figured. I would've done the same."

"Yeah," Kaiba agreed. "You probably would."

They finished their coffees in silence and then Anzu offered up, "I never knew my birthfather."

"Yeah, well, mine wasn't so great, so I doubt you're missing much. And your dad always comes to career day and embarrasses you, so it's not like he's uninvolved in your life."

It had to be the longest sentence – outside of those speeches he and Yugi threw at each during duals – that Anzu had ever heard from Kaiba, but she managed to retort: "Hey! You never even show up for career day!"

"You moan about it for days after. You'd have to be deaf not to know."

"Yeah, well, you always act like you're deaf."

And, Anzu thought, wasn't this just insane? That she and Kaiba could be having such a, well, normal conversation. And, course, because she was Anzu, she knew she would have to ruin it.

But Kaiba ruined it first.

"Tell your mother I'll call her," he said, rising up and tossing his empty coffee can into the trash. "But before she gets her hopes up, warn her that my feelings about methadone haven't changed."


	5. V

xxxxxxx

The rumors began to swirl the next day, and like most rumors, they had more than a grain of truth to them.

It wasn't like Kaiba's schoolmates hadn't suspected something like this for a long time now. Kaiba wore very long sleeves, even in the height of summer P.E. classes, and Otogi used to swear that Kaiba's needle tracks looked way too fresh to be some weird, left-over penalty game courtesy of Gozaburo. Of course, this led into Jounouchi and Honda asking just _why_ Otogi was looking so closely at Kaiba in the locker room showers, and the conversation lost its seriousness right about then.

And, of course, those bouts of mania Kaiba always got when he dueled ought to have been a clue.

"How long?" Anzu had demanded of Mokuba when she had returned home. "How long has your brother been an addict?"

"Shh! Do you want your mom to hear? And he's not an addict!"

"She knows. She told your brother to get clean."

"She could've meant he needed a bath." Mokuba had then attempted to change the topic. "Like _you_."

"Mokuba."

"He's not an addict. He's not! And I'm not telling you anything, you traitor!" And with that, he had pushed her out of his room, formerly the guest bedroom.

Kaiba was in school, on time, and attempting to pay attention. And he held his head as high as he had before, even when he was called down to the main office right before lunch.

"They're finally gonna kick him out," Jounouchi muttered as he took out his _bento_.

"They won't," Yugi said. "Not on rumors."

"Bet they searched his locker," Otogi added as he sat down at the table.

"Look, he's not stupid enough to leave it in his locker," Honda argued, opening into Otogi's bag of potato chips with relish.

"Hey!"

Honda threw the bag to Jounouchi and then Jounouchi threw it back as Otogi tackled him. Anzu sighed and said: "Guys. Please."

"You know something," Jounouchi said with that unnerving insight he always displayed at the worst times. "What do you know?"

"Nothing," Anzu said, but it was a lie, and all her friends knew it.

And then, all conversation stopped because Kaiba flung himself into the empty chair next to Anzu, as if he had sat at their table every day since the first day of freshman year.

He _looked_ like a heroin addict, despite his neatly brushed hair and buttoned up uniform. The gaunt, hollow cheeks. The constricted pupils. She knew he didn't sleep much unless he crashed and then he slept for days. She knew he had manic episodes; she knew he hallucinated; she knew he often had trouble recognizing reality for what it was, and that he got itchy and restless when he was in their company for more than a few hours at a stretch.

And even knowing all that, what struck Anzu the most was the spicy licorice smell of his aftershave.

Honda wordlessly passed Otogi's bag of potato chips across the table to Kaiba.

"Y'know," Jounouchi said. "I heard you can inject into your eyeballs. That way no one can tell."

"Y'know," Kaiba mimicked. "I really don't care what you've heard." And he passed the potato chips to Anzu without eating a one.

And it was like he _had_ sat at their table every day since the first day of freshman year.

When the five-minute warning bell rang, everyone rose up from the table en masse, and Anzu wondered if Kaiba would return to class with them or if he had been cut loose from the public school system.

"We're with you," Yugi said quietly. "No matter what." She obviously wasn't the only one with such thoughts.

"Relax, Yugi," Kaiba said. "I didn't get kicked out." He scowled. "They're making me join the track team."

Of course, that was all anyone was getting out of Kaiba, and so, during study hall, Anzu went and hit up Miho for information, as it was generally understood that nothing in the school ever escaped Miho's notice.

"Yeah, the team's faculty advisor went nuts when he learned of Kaiba-kun's performance in P.E. Said the boy had potential for the nationals but that he needed quote firm discipline unquote."

"He _does_ know that the only thing Kaiba-kun wants to be nationally known for is for revolutionizing the gaming industry, right?"

"Hey, I just tell it like it is." Miho shrugged. "So, quid pro quo: what's this about you and Kaiba-kun dating?"

"D-ating?"

"That's the latest. Rumor has it you were spotted at the convenience store Abe-kun's dad owns."

Anzu frowned. "I _knew_ that kid looked familiar." At least that explained the latest batch of "Kaiba Seto is a junkie" lavatory conversations.

Miho looked appalled. "Then it's true?!"

"What? _No_!" Anzu said emphatically. "Well, I mean, yeah, we were at the store, but it wasn't a date."

"Don't sweat it," Miho assured. "I was just kidding. And, like, no one believes it anyway. We're still waiting for you and Yugi to tie the knot." And then she crossed her fingers and giggled, and Anzu suddenly remembered why all her close friends were boys.

xxxxxxx

"Your brother made an appointment to see me tomorrow," Yoshiko announced over dinner.

"And then I can go home?"

"No, but it gives your brother a better chance in family court. That is, if he shows up."

"Kaiba-kun was in school all day," Anzu felt compelled to add in Kaiba's defense. "And he's joining the track team."

"Huh," Mokuba mumbled around a mouthful of food, but Anzu noticed the pleased light in his eyes. And after dinner, Mokuba had evidently forgiven Anzu for the night before, because after Yoshiko declared it his bedtime, he snuck into Anzu's room and dozed on her bed while Anzu completed her homework.

She heard the door open and her mother's greeting to her father and his tired reply. And she looked at Mokuba on the bed, and went out to join her parents.

"Dad? What would you do if my birthfather wanted me back?"

Yoshiko paused in the act of reheating dinner, and her father put down the evening paper to stare Anzu straight in the eye. "Kill him," he said, as casually as one would say, "Oh, what lovely weather we're having."

"This is about Mokuba, isn't it?" And Yoshiko wasn't really asking a question.

"What if Kaiba doesn't get him back?" Anzu burst out. "You can't give Mokuba-kun to those people. They don't know him! They didn't want him! They – they – they." And she began to cry.

xxxxxxx

The next morning dawned bright and clear, but Anzu's eyes were swollen and her head was heavy. And Mokuba was curled up in a ball beside her because it seemed he couldn't sleep alone to save his life.

At school, it seemed like everyone else had had just as lousy of a night. Jounouchi and Honda had gotten into an argument after school and were refusing to speak to each other. Otogi had pulled an all-nighter to get his shop's books up-to-date and was slurping coffee and glaring at everyone. Even Yugi was out of sorts. And Kaiba – well, Kaiba just put his head down on the desk and slept through both morning classes and lunch, and then after lunch, he handed his excused absence slip to the study hall teacher and slipped out the classroom door.

And that's when Anzu remembered that she was supposed to have her dance routine down cold for today's class, and she still couldn't stay on the beat for the last seven measures of music.

Hours later, she limped out of the elevator, carrying her tap shoes like they were twenty kilo bags of rice, she ran into Kaiba – once again in those ratty jeans but this time sans bomber jacket.

But despite the jeans (and the oddly familiar black turtleneck), Kaiba seemed to be in the best spirits he had been in since the entire mess started. He had the pleased little smirk on his face, the one that usually promised that he had some plan or another up his sleeve. And Anzu, despite the fact that sometimes those plans involved pain and suffering on her part, was glad to see its return.

"Mom better not be home," Anzu said in warning. "Or she's going to have to report you, you know."

"Is that any way to greet your new neighbour?"

Anzu dropped her shoes. "You didn't." But she knew he already had. The apartment next-store to Anzu's had been vacant for the last three months, ever since the Watanabe family had been transferred to Okinawa. "The market is bad," Anzu's father would always say with a slight frown, "And they want too much for it."

But what did markets and money matter for Kaiba?

"My mom's going to flip," she said as she bent over and picked up her shoes.

"She already did." And with that, Kaiba pulled out his new set of keys with a flourish and unlocked the door to the left of Anzu's. " 'Later."

Yoshiko was sitting on the couch, her head in her hands. "That boy's going to be the death of me," she said to her daughter.

"At least you can keep an eye on him?" Anzu offered weakly.

"Ha."

Anzu made her way to her room, stopping at Mokuba's along the way. "I suppose you know," she said.

"Yeah. They had a big fight about it." Mokuba was playing some sort of electronic game that Anzu didn't have the energy to follow, let alone figure out. "I told them they sounded like they were married." He gave a mischievous little grin. "I don't think they liked that."

Well, Anzu thought, at least someone was happy about the new arrangement.

And then she went to her room and called Yugi. Yugi, of course, called Jounouchi, and Jounouchi called Honda who called Otogi, and before Anzu knew it, there were having an emergency meeting at Yugi's grandfather's shop.

With lots of caffeine and sugar.

Which led to Jounouchi – at around midnight – suggesting the brilliantly stupid idea that they ought to properly welcome Kaiba to the neighbourhood and that there was no time like the present and it wasn't like Kaiba actually slept, right?

And since no one really was coherent enough to point out the flaws in Jounouchi's faulty logic, everyone walked those two blocks that separated Yugi's house from Anzu's building.

They met up with Kaiba in the elevator.

He had on that bomber jacket again, and if it hadn't been for Anzu, she knew the others would never have recognized him.

"Kaiba-kun!"

Jounouchi was the most frank in his disbelief of Kaiba's outfit.

"Run out of trenchcoats?"

"Nah – I'm slumming. Had a date with your sister."

"Why you – "

And then there was the normal restraining of Jounouchi while Kaiba stood there and looked as obnoxious as only he could.

"So…what is this? Didn't know your mother went in for schoolnight sleepovers." He nodded slightly in Anzu's direction.

"We were coming to visit you," Anzu informed him. "Before you had to go and be an ass about it."

"Good thing I was then," Kaiba said easily. "Otherwise I'd have to entertain."

But he let them into the apartment all the same before he retreated to one of the apartment's bedrooms and shut the door.

Anzu flipped on the overhead lights because it was obvious that Kaiba figured he had done his duty as a host simply by letting them in.

The main room of the apartment was empty: no furniture, no pictures, no boxes waiting to unpacked. The kitchen, if possible, was even worse. Kaiba had an un-opened box of instant _miso_ soup packets and three apples sitting on the counter.

"Jeez," Jounouchi said, voicing what they all thought.

"Hey, Kaiba!" Honda yelled. "What's with the asceticism? Planning on joining a monastery?"

Kaiba didn't answer, but they could hear the bedroom door opening, and they turned. Kaiba emerged in the kitchen's doorway, toying with his left cuff. He gave them all a brilliant smile. "There's orange juice," he said, as if that made everything all right.

And sure enough, when Anzu opened up the refrigerator, there was an open carton of orange juice. Nothing else.

Anzu caught Otogi and Honda exchanging raised eyebrows.

"Er…have any glasses?" Yugi asked, even though none of them were very thirsty.

Kaiba joined them in the kitchen, absently opening a few of the cupboards. "Guess not."

Up close, Anzu could see that his normally his bone-white face had two bright spots of color over each cheekbone.

And Anzu made a snap decision. "I need to talk to you," she said as she closed the refrigerator door. And she grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him out of the kitchen, through the empty main room, and back into the bedroom he had just walked out of.

Kaiba's bedroom – if you could call it such – had a futon laid out (with mathematical precision) in the center of the room. Kaiba's laptop was humming in the corner, along with his briefcase and an old-fashioned desk lamp that bathed the room in very, very dim light.

But even so, Kaiba's pupils were almost nonexistent in his eyes.

"Where is it?"

"Where's what?" And the bastard had the nerve to look surprised. Worse still, he slouched comfortably, hands in his pockets. "Did Mokuba put you up to this? Because – "

"Y'know," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "I've always thought you were stupid, what with the way you acted in school: goofing off, always being such an asshole. But now, I don't know: when you're _this_ close to losing it all – " and here she shoved him back against the door to his bedroom, effectively shutting them off from the rest of the apartment. "—you really just can't help yourself, can you?"

Their faces were close enough together that when Kaiba opened his mouth, Anzu could almost feel his lips move against hers as he hissed out the words, "Oh, I can always help myself."

And that was the only warning she had before he kissed her.

And if he smelled of licorice, he tasted of ouzo. And like ouzo, his kiss started sweet and then turned bitter. Then raced down Anzu's throat. Fled through her veins and left her shuddering.

She'd only had ouzo once in her life before, but she had gotten so drunk off it, the liquor hitting her empty stomach. Her face had flushed, and she had prayed the appetizers would arrive before everyone else at the table had noticed how…indisposed…she had become.

But here, there was no hope of anything that would settle her stomach; instead, it all only worsened as Kaiba took hold of her hips and yanked her even closer, the space between them sliding from barely there to decidedly nonexistent.

The part of Anzu's brain that wasn't shocked into stupidity noted that for a first a kiss it wasn't anything nice and it sure wasn't anything pretty. It was Kaiba, high and hot as hell.

And obviously, she was as crazy as he was because instead of shoving him away and screaming obscenities at him, she kissed him back.

His eyelashes were against her cheek, his thumbs soothing circles on her belly until her legs parted and let his thigh inside.

And his thigh pressed up, and she found herself moaning into Kaiba's mouth at the pressure and the feel, and somehow along the way his hands had moved from her belly to cupping her backside, and her skirt was somewhere about her waist rather than laying smoothly down her legs.

And her hands were scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders, and the knit of his turtleneck was giving in to her fingernails and –

-- almost lazily, he released his hold on her, his breathing a bit more ragged then when they had begun. Anzu hadn't been carrying her own weight to begin with, and once released, she found herself sprawling at his feet, face still burning and gasping for breath. She watched, dazedly, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and straightened his turtleneck.

"See?" Kaiba told her, intent on pressing the point home.

Anzu wondered if she – rather than Kaiba – should admit herself to child services' evaluation. Because there was something definitely _wrong_ with a girl who had been _this_ close to letting a boy she couldn't stand do something like _that_ to her. Hormones could only account for so much.

"I want you to think very long and very hard about what I could tell my mother," she hissed at him, her mouth swollen and head dizzy. She still felt drunk; Kaiba just might be worse than ouzo. At least ouzo wore off.

Kaiba narrowed his eyes. "Are you threatening me?"

"What's the most important thing to you?" Anzu countered, pulling her skirt back into place. "And I think we both know what it means if you don't answer 'Mokuba.' "

He slid down the wall to sit across from her. Didn't answer, just stared at her with those feverish eyes of his, and Anzu knew she had him.

Not that it made her feel any better.


	6. VI

**Definitions: **_kotobuki-taisha_ – the custom of a woman retiring from work after her marriage; _omiai_ – meeting between two single people (usually by and with their families) to consider marriage; _chado_ – Japanese tea ceremony; _haori_ – the jacket worn over one's _kimono_ (when men wear it with their family crest, it's considered quite formal).

xxxxxxx

It wasn't that she actively sought Kaiba out. No, she had learned the error of her ways on that front, and she figured that her most recent burn from him warranted at least two weeks of drawing back to lick her wounds before she tried again to give him help or a dressing down. Or both.

But now Kaiba was everywhere. He had been assigned to pick up all the test papers for the entire month, and so whenever Anzu faced the horror of a pop quiz, she also faced the fact that she and Kaiba would have to brush hands.

She tried to meet his gaze with her head held high and her face smooth. But she was too emotional, as her friends were fond of telling her, and more often than not, she would find herself dropping her gaze to the floor, feeling the colour flush her cheeks.

Kaiba seemed to enjoy these moments, his mouth twisting up into one of his smirks. Despite the fact Anzu knew their last argument had ended in a draw (or even with a slight edge in her favour; after all, she was the one who had gotten in the last word), Kaiba seemed to believe that whenever she blushed, he was that much closer to winning.

Not that they ever explicitly spelled out any rules, but Anzu knew from long acquaintance with Kaiba Seto that this was how his mind worked.

In some ways, it was easier now that they were officially (if not verbally declared) opponents; at least he was taking her seriously. On the other hand, she was mortified. Not for the initial kiss, no (because _that_ was his fault), but what had happened afterwards. Her behavior had been inexcusable, and it was even more inexcusable now.

And still she turned red like a middle school student with a crush on her favourite teacher.

Thankfully, the boys hadn't said anything, but she knew it was only a matter of time before they would. Jounouchi was oblivious, but not that oblivious.

And he had seemed to sense something was up that night when she and Kaiba behind her had stumbled out from his bedroom, Anzu mumbling something about it being time to go and leaving the apartment, not caring if the boys followed her.

Of course, there wasn't anything _to_ sense. Other than she obviously was just as immature as she often accused her friends of being. And Kaiba obviously knew it as that night he had been as ruthless as he ever was in exposing others' weaknesses, especially if he thought he could profit from it.

And it infuriated her that she knew so much about Kaiba Seto's thought processes.

But she found she couldn't move past that night, and when she had arrived home and found Kaiba's little brother (once again) curled up in her bed, she felt a very unfamiliar rage that made her want to push any - and all - Kaibas (even the adorably cute and – remarkably – still innocent ones) out of her bed.

Instead, she had slid in beside Mokuba, and he had given out a sleepy, "Nii-sama," and clutched a bit tighter to his battered stuffed rabbit because obviously he thought he was back at home. Which had brought her right back to Kaiba Seto and his (or rather her own) incredibly inappropriate actions.

Anzu hadn't gotten much sleep that night.

Usually, Anzu talked to the boys about what was bothering her. Or, if it was too much of what Honda had once jokingly referred to as "feminine hygiene" problem, she talked to her mother (her father still got red in the face if she mentioned "period" in his presence, and out of consideration from that last horrible time when he had had to buy pads for her, she had made a vow never to mention _anything_ in that vein to him again).

She supposed she could bring up the general concept of sexual attraction to her mother, but Yoshiko was too insightful for her own good, and the last thing she wanted her mother to find out about what had happened.

Or not happened.

She also supposed she could bring up it up with Jounouchi because Jounouchi had experience (with porn if nothing else), but Jounouchi couldn't ever keep his mouth shut, and again, the (perhaps second to) last thing she wanted was the boys teasing her about any and all things sexual.

So the whole "Kaiba-kun kissed me, and I liked it" was one of those problems that she would have figure out on her own.

Anzu would be the first to admit that she didn't have much experience with boys. In her last year of middle school, a schoolmate had confessed to her, but she had been too embarrassed to treat it seriously, and she had been very, very glad when she had learned they were going to different high schools.

There was Yugi's crush on her, of course, but she tried to brush it off as "If I ignore it, it will go away" because she had been Yugi's friend for far too long to let something like that come between them.

Then there was her crush on the spirit that lived _within_ Yugi, and even half-a-year later, Anzu still inwardly cringed with about the whole affair. She tried to tell herself (with the maturity of a sixteen year old rather than a fifteen-and-a-half year old) that she was young, it was perfectly common to mistake hero-worship and gratitude for something very much like love.

But…the fact that at one point she had been jealous of _Rebecca_ of all people was still very, very hard to bear.

So, if she looked at this rationally, she was again just making a horrible mistake due to youth. Because Kaiba was the most unsuitable boy to ever do anything (other than be a sympathetic and supporting friend) with.

But all the rationalizing in the world couldn't make her forget.

xxxxxxx

"Why did you like Mom?" Anzu heard herself blurt out into the previously comfortable silence of the kitchen.

She had been in the process of making herself tea. Her mother and Mokuba were still at a court hearing, and her father was home early for once. She had thought to ask him which he would rather have for dinner: the leftover pork or the leftover chicken, but apparently her mouth had other ideas.

Her father didn't look up from his paper, and Anzu had a vague hope that perhaps he had only been listening with half-an-ear and eventually (once had had finished his current article) ask her to repeat her question. And then she could tell him she had just asked whether he wanted the chicken or the pork because Mom had said that neither leftover had enough for more than one person

But then, her father spoke. "Are you implying I've stopped liking her?" His voice had that light-hearted, teasing quality that reminded Anzu of when she was little and her mother used to put her hair in pigtails. And her father had used to tug on them.

"Ummm…" Anzu said, very glad her father hadn't put down his paper because Anzu wasn't really sure what was reflected in her face, but she was sure it wasn't the best thing. "I'm gonna have the chicken. Are you okay with the pork?"

Her father nodded, and Anzu set down her tea mug to rummage around the fridge.

"I suppose I liked her tenacity."

Anzu almost dropped the container full of chicken she was pulling off of the refrigerator shelf. "What?"

"Her tenacity," her father repeated, and she heard him setting down his paper. "The way she charged onto the scene, all ready to attack and refusing to let it go until she got the job done."

Anzu closed the refrigerator. "You're making Mom sound like a terrier," she accused.

Her father shrugged. "I think you have to be when you're a social worker." He smiled. "But in a subtle way."

Anzu popped the pork in the microwave and considered.

She already knew the story of how her parents met. She had heard it time and time again when she was a little girl. Her father had recently moved from Tokyo, fresh from a promotion and transfer, and he had been proud of the fact he could pay for the rent on something more than a studio apartment.

But her father had learned very quickly that money didn't make every problem go away.

The woman next store had been beating her daughter. Pretty badly, from what Anzu could glean between the lines (her parents had tended to keep the grimmer facts of life hazy when she was younger), and her father had been unsure of what to do. So he had been half-hesitant, half-ready to turn around and go home the day he finally decided that he ought to go down to Domino City Courthouse and see what could be done.

He had run into Yoshiko instead, still in her practicum but already fired up with what Anzu's father would fondly call tenacity and some of her not-so-charitable colleagues would call pure craziness to make the world a better place. One child at a time.

The microwave dinged.

"Okay," Anzu conceded as she slid the pork into a bowl and then handed it to her father along with a pair of chopsticks. "She's tenacious. You admired that. But that's admiration. Not liking."

Her father raised an eyebrow but tactfully (in Anzu's opinion, anyway) didn't say anything.

"I mean…" Anzu said, trying to form words to all the things she'd been thinking about. Night after sleepless night. "Why did you like _her_? She certainly wasn't the best person you could've had. She didn't go to an elite university; she wasn't planning on following _kotobuki-taisha_. Hell, Dad, she had an illegitimate, half-foreign kid!" And here she banged the microwave door closed for emphasis.

"Anzu – "

"And all those _omiais_! I know you had all those _omiais_. One was even with Natasuda Emiko! Why didn't you marry her?"

"Because she wasn't your mother," her father said mildly. "And press the start button, honey, or you're going to be waiting quite some time for your dinner."

"Now," her father said, when Anzu was finally seated across from him, food in hand. "What's all this about? Is someone giving you a hard time at school again? Because I'm going to talk to the principal if they are – "

"No, Dad. No one's giving me a hard time at school," Anzu said hastily. Because she really didn't want a repeat of what had happened in grade school when her father found out what one of her classmates had said to her about her parentage. "I just…want to know why people like each other." She looked down at her food. "Especially people they shouldn't."

"Oh," her father said, in quite a different tone. "Is it Yugi? Because I know that you don't want to face these things, but someday you are going to have to tell him, you know."

Anzu hated to lie, but there was something so relieving that her father had stumbled upon the wrong reason for her questions that she didn't have the courage to correct him.

Her father must've taken her silence for assent to his question because he had gone from defender of Mazaki Anzu's honour to the more relaxed state of advice giving parent. "At some level, Anzu, you can't help who you like. And if you can help who you like, it isn't a very strong like, now is it?"

Anzu shook her head.

"Anzu, your mother's job, her education, _you_ – you ask how I could like her with all those things, but, honey, they're all part of what makes her who she is.

"I didn't like your mother _despite_ who she is but _because_ of who she is. And that's the only advice I can give. The rest, I'm sorry to say, is something you're just going to have to figure out on your own."

Anzu swallowed hard. Found her voice. "Part of growing up, huh?"

Her father smiled at her in that gentle way he always did, and Anzu was reminded of their very first meeting when her mother had brought him home and he knelt down and smiled at her and told her that he hoped they could be friends.

"Dad…I probably haven't told you this enough lately, but I love you. You know that, right?"

Her father's smile didn't falter. "We probably don't tell you enough either, honey, but your mother and I love you more than anything in the world. And we're very, very proud of you." He cleared his throat. "Now eat your dinner before your food gets cold."

xxxxxxx

Fresh off the conversation with her father, Anzu decided that there would be no more blushing, no more avoiding. She would face her problems head on, even if that meant telling Yugi one day soon that she could not and would not ever return his feelings.

Of course, the secret vows Anzu made in front of her vanity mirror were a lot harder to put into practice when Kaiba was in school every day now, even staying after for track practice.

She also had other problems besides the new state of affairs with Kaiba, and it was truly a shame that she couldn't even look at him without remembering how his lips felt or how his (and then she would blush despite her promises to herself and stop her thoughts right there) because she would have liked his opinion on what to do about Mokuba.

Inoue Chiaki had made good on her promise to begin seeing more of Mokuba. She had arrived the past two Saturdays, precisely at ten o'clock to take Mokuba to _chado_ ceremony. Mokuba – to Anzu's surprise – did own both a formal _kimono_ and _haori_, complete with the Kaiba crest. And he would put them on, scowling all the while, and muttering some very inappropriate language under his breath.

Mokuba's language had always been something of a trial; he was the world's cutest kid, yes, and his heart was in the right place (most of the time), but with only his brother as his role model, Mokuba's bold, disrespectful, and often obscene language was something that shocked most adults into silence.

Anzu could only wonder in a sort of vague horror what the other people at the _chado_ ceremony thought. Of course, there was the very real possibility that he wasn't saying anything to anyone anymore.

He had always been talkative, but now he steadily was becoming as taciturn as his older brother – especially if he were outside of the apartment. And he had taken to clinging to Anzu like he used to cling to Kaiba, and he absolutely refused to sleep alone anymore.

It didn't help that the Family Court kept on postponing any sort of decision on Mokuba's custody, and every time Yoshiko came back with Mokuba from a hearing, the little boy would shut himself up in his room for hours.

Anzu would sit outside his door with his dinner on her lap because, really, there wasn't anything else she could do.

xxxxxxx

The first track meet with Kaiba added to the team roster was an unqualified success, and soon it became apparent that the boys were not going to notice her attitude towards Kaiba even if she and he made a repeat of that disaster of a kiss in front of the entire school.

The boys – or rather Jounouchi and thus the rest of them by virtue of association – were more interested in being jealous of Kaiba (though they would be quick to deny it) then to wonder about Anzu's newfound bashfulness. Because Kaiba was well on his way to becoming the new jock darling of Domino High.

Kaiba had always been something of a celebrity figure at school. That is, until teachers and students alike learned of his complete disinterest in anything school related. He was famous, sure, and he was a genius, but at school he seemed so normal. Or even, not normal, more like the delinquent he really was (with the bad attitude and bad grades to prove it). And so, people tended to stay away from him, for fear the stigma would spread.

But now, with his prowess on the track field moving Domino High steadily upwards through the high school rankings and his name suddenly appearing at the top of the lists when exam results were posted, he had once again become someone to be courted, to curry favour, in the way that only a high school student could understand.

The student council, the other athletes, and (most importantly to the male mind) the prettiest and most popular of the girls were suddenly fawning at his feet. And every less fortunate boy and girl could take comfort in the fact that Kaiba (when it came right down to it) was a computer geek made good.

And so the hero-worship spread.

All of which made the boys (with the exception of Yugi) seethe in not-so-silent anger. Or rather, they spent their time indulging in a false anger than face the very real fear that nothing Kaiba did at this point would change the Family Court's mind.

"It's like he's trying to pretend he's normal or something," Jounouchi griped one day after school.

"Yes," Yugi said thoughtfully. "I think that's _exactly_ what he's trying to pretend."

And that was more than enough to make the group fall into an uneasy silence.


	7. VII

**Definitions: **"getting wings" – being injected with heroin for the first time.

xxxxxxx

At the sound of the front door opening, Anzu gave up making sense of her chemistry notes and went into the front hall.

Her mother was kicking off her pumps in the entranceway, face drawn and tired. Kaiba was standing behind her in the doorway, grim and dangerously skinny in his black suit. He had Mokuba hoisted up on one hip, the boy fast asleep and with his head resting on Kaiba's shoulder.

Yoshiko rubbed her temples, and Anzu's father said, "Let's get you some aspirin."

"But – " Yoshiko began to protest, gesturing towards Kaiba and Mokuba.

"It's fine," Kaiba said. "I'll put him to bed." And he began to walk fully into the apartment and towards Mokuba's room. Yoshiko just nodded and let her husband guide her into the kitchen.

Anzu wasn't really surprised that Kaiba knew where Mokuba's room was; after all, he had been in the apartment before.

Still, concern for Mokuba compelled her to say, "He's been sleeping with me."

It came out louder than she had intended, and she flushed at the way he just raised an eyebrow. But he stopped in front of (what he obviously knew to be) her bedroom door and pushed it open.

"He's not sleeping well," she told him, fluttering her hands in a way she knew was reminiscent of her mother and hating herself for doing so. Then, "He used to sleep with you, didn't he?"

Kaiba put Mokuba down on Anzu's bed. Nodded as he bent over and brushed the hair out of Mokuba's face.

"Are you…" Anzu swallowed. Continued, "…are you all right?"

Kaiba turned around, loosened his tie, and Anzu was suddenly far too conscious of the fact that they were in her bedroom. With her stuffed animal collection and that pink bra of hers that really shouldn't be hanging over the back of her desk chair.

She swallowed. Hard. Then asked, "So…what did they decide?"

She knew it couldn't be anything good: both Kaiba and her mother had been far too sober when they returned. But it couldn't be anything _too_ bad as Yoshiko had let him into the apartment. Unless….this was meant to be Kaiba's goodbye to Mokuba.

Kaiba pulled off his tie entirely. "Mokuba stays here for a six month trial period. The Inoues and I will alternate weekend custody."

It was, she knew, surprisingly better than what they all had feared, but not good enough.

Especially not for Kaiba Seto.

And she didn't like it to admit it, but she _knew_ that look in his eyes. That look of desperation veiled over with studious indifference that she had first seen at Duelist Kingdom and then had become reacquainted with in the digital world. And she knew – beyond a shadow of a doubt – _exactly_ how he was going to spend his evening.

He began to move towards the doorway of her bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Where do you think?"

Well, she thought, at least he wasn't denying it.

And even though she knew that when he was in this state, he couldn't be reasoned with, she tried. "Don't give me that. Look at Mokuba-kun! This isn't the end of the world!"

"Whoever said it was?"

She hated it when he did that. When he answered question with questions.

"I'll tell my mother," she threatened because, after all, it was the one threat that had worked in the past.

"Tell her. Hell, tell the whole damn world. It's not as if it matters anymore, does it?"

And still he had that expression.

"Kaiba-kun – "

"Later," he said as he began to push past her.

And she grabbed his arm as he passed her by. "I'm going with you."

She actually expected him to hit her because never in her memory had she ever seen him tolerate the touch of another when he wasn't the one who initiated the contact. Which he never did.

And his free arm did pull back, hand balled into a fist.

But he didn't hit her, and his posture, so stiff, sagged back into that slouch she was becoming quite familiar with.

He finally shrugged. "Do what you want."

And that's how she came to be in the shadier sections of Domino, shivering in the cool spring night air despite Kaiba's suit jacket about her shoulders.

"Here," he said, stopping in front of one of the indistinguishable, grimy, little bars. And in a mocking act of gallantry, he added, "After you."

The bar wasn't much better lit than the street, so it wasn't as if she had to let her eyes adjust. Behind her, Kaiba gave her a little push towards the bar.

No one asked their ages; in fact, no one really asked them anything.

The bartender, when he noticed two more (decidedly under-aged) patrons brought over a shot of something for Kaiba. Looked at Anzu and raised an eyebrow.

"Get her a Coke, would you?" Kaiba said.

"Going vanilla tonight, huh, Inoue?"

"Just get it."

Osaka-_ben_. All of it. And going by his mother's family name. Just another piece of the puzzle that was Kaiba Seto. Anzu watched him knock back the shot, and the bartender brought him another along with her Coke.

"I get off in an hour," the bartender said.

Kaiba nodded absently.

Anzu sipped at her Coke. It tasted all right. A little flat maybe, but she'd had worse in her day.

"Feel free to bring Vanilla Girl," the bartender continued.

Two Cokes and a short walk later, Anzu found herself in an old warehouse with strategically placed spotlights and blaring music.

It smelled of pot, piss, and puke.

She'd always thought that the parties Kaiba went to were white tie affairs, all evening gowns and expensive champagne.

"God, what awful music," Kaiba said, voice and step still firm despite the impressive number of shots he'd put away.

The bartender laughed, and Anzu found herself in agreement with Kaiba. "It's Kaede's new band," the bartender said. "She's burnt a cd or something."

"God," Kaiba said again.

And then both he and the bartender were melting off into the edges of the crowd.

She knew she looked stupid, standing there all alone at a party she clearly didn't belong at.

She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. Slid her feet into first position, then second and was about to go into third when the bartender was back at her elbow.

"Here," he said. "Snagged us some drinks." Anzu took one of the plastic cups from him.

"Where's K – Inoue-kun?" she asked, remembering just in time that Kaiba (for whatever reason) wasn't using his legal name.

"Eh," the bartender told her with a casual jerk of his thumb. She looked over in the direction. Wished she hadn't. "So," he began, "How'd you two meet?"

Well, Anzu really wanted to say. Would you believe he kidnapped my best friend's grandfather over a card game? But aloud all she said was, "First day of first year."

"Huh," the bartender said as he took a sip from his glass. "Never figured Inoue'd still be in school. He's classic drop-out material."

Which was true, but Anzu still found herself clamping down on the instinct to defend Kaiba.

"So…" Anzu said, for lack of anything better to say. "How do you know him?"

"Eh," the bartender said again. "Friend of a friend, y'know."

Drugs, Anzu's mind filled in the blanks. Looked over the bartender with fresh eyes. Saw the gauntness in the cheeks, the way his hands shook. Just like Kaiba.

And then Kaiba was back, face flushed and a looseness in his bones. His face, which had been drawn tight like her mother's, was relaxed now, eyes heavy lidded and mouth soft.

"Did you get her a Coke?" Kaiba asked, far more coherent than he ought to be and with a suspicious glance at the cup in Anzu's hand.

The bartender made a face. "_Jesus_, Inoue. She might be a schoolgirl, but she's not a freakin' two-year old." He turned to Anzu. "You're not one, are you?"

"I'm older than Inoue-kun," Anzu said, answering the bartender's question but staring Kaiba straight in the eye.

Raised the cup to her lips.

Drank.

She wasn't exactly a stranger to alcohol. She'd had the occasional cup of _sake_ at New Years, wine when her father took her to one of his business dinners, ouzo on last year's family vacation to Crete, and beer that Jounouchi had boosted from his father.

But she wasn't used to it, either, and she sure as hell wasn't used to gulping at it like water.

The bartender laughed and slapped her on the back. "She's a big girl, Inoue."

Kaiba narrowed his eyes but said nothing.

After the first cup, the taste began to bother her less. And suddenly the party didn't seem so bad. She found out the bartender's name was Yamada Etsuo, and he took great pleasure in introducing her to everyone they met as "Inoue's girlfriend."

She'd corrected him in the beginning, but pretty soon it mattered less and less, and it wasn't like Kaiba had done much to dissuade what Yamada was saying, anyway.

Of course, it was entirely probable that Kaiba was even more fucked up than she was at the moment.

"So…ever thought about getting wings like your boyfriend here?" someone asked her. "First time's on the house."

And she'd been smiling and nodding for so long, tongue too thick for coherent sentences for some time now, that she just continued nodding and smiling.

"No," Kaiba said for her, pushing himself into both the conversation and between Anzu and the man who'd asked her the question. His voice was a tad too sharp and a tad too dangerous.

"Oh-kay," the man said, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "No wings. I get it. Vanilla Girl stays vanilla."

(And Anzu distantly wondered if Kaiba or the bartender had told the man that's what her name actually _was_.)

But Kaiba was pulling her along behind him, away from the man and his confusing words. "Can't let you out of my sight for a moment," she heard him mutter under his breath.

He sank onto some sort of couch-futon fusion that hardly looked clean, and Anzu, already unsteady on her feet, almost fell on top of him, and if he weren't still holding onto her, she would have. Instead, she wound up half-sitting, half-straddling his lap.

"I'm a big girl," she reminded him, proud of the way she forced her words not to slur. "It was my choice to come."

"And it's my choice to watch you." He ran his free hand through his hair. "Shit, your mother would kill me if I let you shoot up."

"_You_ do," she reminded him because it was one of the few things still clear and unmuddled in her mind and not because she actually had any intention of going near something that could fuck up her system so badly.

"I'm a junkie," he hissed, self-disgust evident in his voice. "That's what junkies do." His face was right next to hers, lashes incredibly long and cheekbones sharp as knives, and if she hadn't been so drunk, she probably would've jerked away because close proximity to Kaiba Seto had not been on the agenda for the evening.

But she _was_ drunk (or at least that was the excuse she told herself), and so this time it was Mazaki Anzu and not Kaiba Seto that leant forward those few millimeters and pressed her lips to his.

He still tasted like ouzo, and it just wasn't fair, and she might have even gasped it aloud when he lightly bit her lip to make her open her mouth and let him in.

It was just like before except, of course, it _wasn't_. It was better, somehow, what with the way his hands were now curled about her hips urging her to _move_ right there, on his lap.

And she could feel him right _there_, her thighs squeezing tight around his, and _oh God_ how she wanted.

And she was no longer kissing him but burying her face into his shoulder and she heard her voice – broken and gasping and sounding utterly foreign to her own ears – choke out a strangled, "K-kaiba-kun," before her world contracted.


	8. VIII

xxxxxxx

She woke to a murky darkness, lying on a bed she didn't remember getting on, and pressed up against a body that definitely wasn't Mokuba's.

And with the logic of the newly awake, it was the fact that she wasn't wearing shoes that bothered her the most.

She tried to sit up, but the weight of an arm thrown over her stopped her.

"Kaiba-kun?" she whispered.

"Mmm." She felt his hair tickle her cheek, pressed as she was against his side with her nose almost touching the crook of his neck. _He needs a haircut_, she thought.

"Where are my shoes?"

He mumbled something that might have been "entranceway" or might have just as easily been "New York City" because he was sleeping on his stomach and his face was buried in a pillow.

And Anzu, still drunk and drowsy enough to be satisfied with this semi-coherent bit of sleeptalk, closed her eyes.

xxxxxxx

Anzu rolled over and wished to God that someone would take pity on her and just shoot her in the back of the head. It would only hurt for a minute, unlike the headache that felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to her skull.

She was freezing, and her legs were cramped, and she had a dim memory of emptying the contents of her stomach down a storm sewer.

It was official: she was never drinking again, not even on pain of death.

She could hear a shower running, and she wanted to puke (or at least crawl under a rock from the mortification) as she considered the fact that Kaiba had not only witnessed her inability to handle alcohol but had held back her hair when it had happened.

Moving to a remote corner of Antarctica and learning how to ice fish might be a good idea, too.

She must have – somehow – fallen back to sleep because the next thing she knew, the pillow she had put over her head was being pulled away, and something cool was being pressed against her lips.

"Get up."

She squinted her eyes open. A glass of water stared back at her.

"I can't drink lying on my stomach," she groaned.

"Then sit the fuck up."

Kaiba-kun was obviously not a morning person, but then at the moment neither was she. Still, Anzu was a bright girl whose parents had brought her up to follow sensible advice, and water sounded like a very good idea.

She raised her head as he tilted back the glass, and she swallowed. It was brackish, like all water was near the harbor, and she choked one her second mouthful, water spilling down her chin.

Warm fingers brushed the water off, and she shivered, his thumb hard against her lips as he held her mouth open.

"Breathe," Kaiba whispered, and she thought of last night, and the way he had whispered into her ear. And for a moment, her headache fell away, and all she could feel was the press of his fingertips on her jaw.

She pushed herself up on her elbows, twisting herself over and into a sitting position.

The water splashed down her back.

He sat on the side of the bed, halfway leaning over her. On her knees as she was their eyes were nearly of a level, and she found herself staring at those thin lips of his, compressed into a hard, almost angry line. She wanted to kiss the hardness away, but it was he who leaned in and kissed her first.

Anzu let her eyes fall closed, fingers curling into the lapels of his suit jacket and pulling him forward.

"This…isn't a good idea," she said, even as they tumbled back on the bed, his weight heavy and solid above her.

"No," he said, punctuating his agreement with quick, dirty little kisses. She could smell the cheap hotel soap he'd showered with and the residue of stale cigarettes smoke from the bar that even the shower hadn't been able to remove. And underneath it all was the spicy scent of anise, and she wanted to press her mouth to the underside of his chin, right where it met his throat, and see if his skin was saturated with the taste. But she didn't have time for that now, not when his tongue was hot in her mouth and his thigh was pressed between her legs.

Her cell phone rang, and just like that, it was over.

Kaiba swung his legs over the side of the bed, up and off of her, and removed her cell-phone from the breast pocket of his jacket.

He held the phone out to her, like the past few moments hadn't happened at all, looking all cool and collected and not at all as if his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

And maybe it wasn't; maybe it was just hers because she was obviously some sort of freak.

She reached out and took the phone from him, not even bothering to look at the number or even consider just _why_ Kaiba had her phone in the first place.

"Hello?"

"Of all the times for you to be irresponsible," her mother's voice sounded tinny, but distance could do nothing to disguise the annoyance in Yoshiko's voice.

And Anzu's blood just _froze_ inside her veins because there was no way, no possible way that her mother could know what had happened last night. Or this morning. Or (and here Anzu's skin prickled all over) what might have happened if Yoshiko hadn't called.

"Mom – I – " she began, but the words wouldn't leave her mouth.

"Yugi called," Yoshiko continued, still annoyed but apparently oblivious to her daughter's almost palpable guilt. "And it's fine if you want to spend the day over there, but you need to make sure Kaiba-kun gets over here. The media's going to have a field day if it gets out he's too stoned to pick up his brother on the first day he has visitation rights again."

"Umm…"

"Is he there with you? Yugi didn't say."

"Umm," Anzu said again.

"He's not unconscious, is he?" her mother's tone was still annoyed but now tinged with a bit of worry. "Because if the two of you can't wake him up, you'd better call an ambulance – "

Anzu pulled herself together enough to cut off what sounded like the beginning of one of her mother's famous nervous rants. "He's fine, Mom." And Kaiba _did_ look fine, sitting there on the edge of the bed, absently straightening his cufflinks and politely pretending that he wasn't listening to her phone conversation. And maybe he wasn't. Maybe he didn't even care because since _when_ did Kaiba do anything polite and vaguely normal like feigning deafness to what was said over cell-phones or making sure that drunk-off-their ass teenage girls didn't choke to death on their own vomit.

Or make those same teenage girls brush their teeth afterwards. She could still taste the cloying, too-sweet peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked, now that the sense-memory of Kaiba's kisses were slowly fading from her mouth.

"Tell him I expect him here within the hour," Yoshiko said, her tone crisp. "And you and I, young lady, are going to have a serious _talk_." And with that, she disconnected, leaving Anzu with only a dial tone.

"Mom's out for blood," she blurted to Kaiba as she flipped her phone shut. "What the heck did you have Yugi tell her?"

"Just that we were over there."

Anzu shook her head. "No. It had to have been more."

"Or maybe Yugi's just a bad liar."

This was true, but Anzu was loathe to agree with Kaiba at this point. Kaiba was going to get to spend the entire weekend with his brother whereas she would be at home. With her mother. Who was not pleased with her.

Kaiba obviously took Anzu's silence for agreement. "I have to pick up Mokuba."

"I know."

Kaiba turned his wrist to look at his watch. "In twenty minutes."

"And you're telling me _now_?" Anzu said, sitting up in bed.

"Yeah," Kaiba said. "I'm telling you now."

Anzu's cursory look in the bathroom mirror told her no amount of time was going to make her look anything other than what she was: a hungover girl who had slept in both her clothes and her make-up. And she had kissed Kaiba looking like this?

"Jeez," she said, trying to quell the butterflies that seemed to be taking up permanent residence in her stomach. She splashed her face with water, smoothed down her skirt and figured she was as ready as she'd ever be.

Kaiba had her shoes ready for her when she re-entered the main part of the hotel room, and she had to wonder at how he could look so pulled together when he had been just as fucked up, possibly more, than she had been.

_Practice_, she told herself. _It's all about practice_.

xxxxxxx

The subway ride home was dreadfully awkward. Their hands kept on brushing each other as they stood on the nearly empty train car, and Anzu wondered what would happen if she just reached out and grabbed his hand and didn't let it go. If it would mean anything. If any of what had happened meant anything.

She wasn't the type of girl who was overly analytical: it was something she recognized about herself. It was why she was never a good gamer, despite Yugi's attempts to teach her the basics of strategy. But what else could she do but nervously speculate and almost – oh almost – reach out for his hand before drawing back and settling for that uncomfortable, jostling touch whenever the car rocked from side to side?

"Do you want me to walk you to Yugi's?" Kaiba asked suddenly, even though they had been silent since before Kaiba had (calm as you please and ignoring the desk clerk's raised eyebrow) paid the hotel bill.

Anzu thought about it. She would love nothing more than to go to Yugi's and curl up in his beanbag chair and listen to him and Jounouchi good-naturedly bicker as they played cards. She wanted to do escape to her usual daydreams of dancing in New York as the sun from Yugi's skylight warmed her face. She wanted Yugi to ask her what was wrong and confide in him, in the same way she had when she and he were still in primary school. And have him tell her – in that absolute sincere way of his – that everything would work out in the way it ought to work out.

But she couldn't do that. Not to Yugi, who looked at her with such hopefulness and adoration in his eyes.

She giggled, a high, strangled sound that made Kaiba turn his head towards her. "What?"

Now that she started, she wasn't sure she could stop. "N-nothing," she managed to get out. And then even her nervous laughter failed her: she struggled to find breath – let alone words – to explain. "I just – it's all like a soap opera, isn't it? Me. Yugi. You."

Kaiba didn't answer her. Instead he stared out the window as the subway car pulled into the station. And said, rather unnecessarily, "This is Yugi's stop."

She grabbed his wrist as he made to get off. "No."

"No?" He raised an eyebrow, as if he didn't quite believe her, but he made no further move to get off the train.

"I think," she said. "I think I'll go back with you."

She held onto his wrist for exactly three heartbeats longer than absolutely necessary. She knew this because her blood was thrumming in her ears, a nervous accompaniment to the nonsensical thoughts swirling in her brain.

"All right," he said. He almost looked as if he were going to say more, but the left corner of his mouth turned up instead, in that half-crook of a smile she was just now learning to recognize could be used for something more than mocking amusement.

And the next thing she knew, he had half-twisted his wrist and she had slid down her hold upon it so that their fingers intertwined and their palms met. And they were, really and truly, holding hands.

The train car doors slid shut, and the subway continued on its way.


	9. IX

xxxxxxx

Anzu stood and watched as her mother wrung her hands and paced a hole in the floor. Her father read his newspaper with much more violence than necessary.

"I'm sorry," Anzu said. "I thought it was a good idea at the time."

Yoshiko looked about as awful as Anzu felt. "I know you did," she said. "But we were so worried. We didn't know where you had gone and with Kaiba-kun the way he is – "

"Nothing happened," Anzu interrupted because the sooner she started convincing everyone else, the sooner she could convince herself. "He looked out for me."

"Well," Yoshiko said. Anzu waited for her mother to finish her thought, but Yoshiko never did. Anzu was left with the disquieting realization that her mother was – for perhaps the first time in her thirty-four years – at a loss for words.

Yoshiko decided soon afterwards that she needed to go to the grocery store, and Anzu was left alone with her father.

"You usually call," her father said as he stood up from the kitchen table. His tone was mild enough, but Anzu felt the weight of guilt settle deep into her stomach.

"Sorry," she said.

"Your mother was in hysterics," he continued as he opened a lower cabinet and pulled out a saucepan.

"I meant to call," Anzu said. Because she had meant to…before the alcohol, before the making out, and definitely before the passing out. She watched as her father got milk out of the fridge and cocoa powder out of the pantry.

"I know you did," he said. Then, "I also know you didn't stay the night at Yugi's."

The room was quiet except for her father making hot chocolate, and Anzu swallowed. Hard. "That – that story wasn't my idea," she said. "Kaiba-kun must have told Yugi to say that."

"So where were you?"

There were some people Anzu just couldn't lie to, and Mazaki Kennosuke was one of them. So she took a deep breath and told him about the hotel. And the reason they had needed it.

"That was incredibly stupid of you," her father told her bluntly when she finished.

It wasn't like Anzu had expected her father to say anything different, but it still stung. "I know," she said.

"And since I know you know, and – more importantly – I know _you_, I'm confident that we'll never have to have this conversation again," her father continued, and Anzu tried not to look as guilty as she felt.

He handed her a mug of hot chocolate. "So next time you feel the need to stop that boy from doing something stupid, remember to call home and beware of bartenders bearing drinks." Then he smiled at her. "And perhaps the Ides of March," he added consideringly.

"Not Greeks bearing gifts?" she managed to say, as if she hadn't a care in the world and as if she still wasn't remembering Kaiba's palm cupping her breast.

He pretended to consider. "No, it's definitely the Ides."

"But Dad, it's June." She tried to smile in her Dad-you're-not-as-funny-as-you-think-you-are-but-I-love-you-anyway smile she'd perfected about a month after her mother had started dating him, but her lips were shaking.

"Don't speak nonsense," her father said, mock-scolding. He turned a tad more serious. "And off to bed with you now. You had a very eventful evening last night, and I'm sure you want to get rid of those circles under your eyes before your erstwhile drinking partner shows up for dinner."

"Kaiba-kun?" she asked. "But there's the restraining order."

Her father made a vague hand gesture. "Your mother will tell you all about it," he said. "In detail until you'd rather not hear about it anymore." He gave her a playful swat on the back. "Off you go."

Anzu went.

xxxxxxx

Later, long after the dance party in her head had packed up (dj and all) and gone home, she felt almost well enough to actually face the day.

Well, face the day safe in the confines of her own home. She got out of her nice, warm bed, palmed three ibuprofen from her mother's medicine cabinet, and then padded back out to the kitchen, empty hot chocolate mug in hand.

Her father had left a note for her, taped to the microwave. His handwriting so messy only years of practice made it readable. His boss had called and had wanted him to go golfing, but he had his cell, so if she felt really horrible, he'd come home in an instant. At some point, her mother had also returned home from grocery shopping, and she had added her own note: there was a small crisis at one of the centers, and she wouldn't be home until at least five o'clock, so would Anzu mind terribly starting dinner? There was a smiley-face next to Yoshiko's addition to Kennosuke's note, so Anzu decided perhaps her death wasn't quite as imminent as she feared.

Anzu looked at the clock: it was half-past one.

She washed the mug on auto-pilot, setting it aside to dry and waiting for the drugs to kick in. When they did, and the dull ache became an equally dull but fading memory, she decided she might be able to look at the contents of the fridge without wanting to beat feet back to the toilet.

Anzu was really the only member of her family that liked to cook. Her mother hated it, had always hated it, and only cooked because she worked less hours than Anzu's father. Kennosuke didn't really mind cooking, but his idea of "cooking" consisted of hot chocolate and over-easy eggs, and so, early in life, Anzu had learned that if she wished to eat the dishes she had tasted at her schoolfellows' homes, she would have to cook them herself.

xxxxxxx

It was half-past four when she heard the front door open.

"I'm in the kitchen," she yelled as she turned off the Kitchen Aid, lowering the mixing-bowl lever, and raising the bowl off and out of its holder.

She knew her mother was still at work as her mother was incredibly accurate at estimating time, but her father's game would surely be over by now, as Nakamori-san, her father's boss, never played a full eighteen holes on the weekends. So when Kaiba, Mokuba tight at his side, entered the kitchen, she almost dropped the mixing bowl.

He looked much the same as he had when she'd last seen him: tall, thin as a whip, and far too handsome for his own good.

"Hi," said Mokuba, practically bouncing with excitement. Then, "Can I lick the spoon?"

The words sort of swirled hazily around her. She _heard_ them, of course, but they sounded as if they were asked to a different person, a person who had it all together and wasn't blushing like a freak in her pajamas and whose mouth wasn't tingling in remembrance.

"When I'm done," she managed to say, the linoleum feeling suddenly alien under her bare feet. She was a stranger in her own home, her own life, and she could feel his eyes on her as she turned back around to her greased cookie sheets and her preheated oven.

Mokuba, though, wasn't to be deterred. It seemed that one day in the company of his brother had returned all his brash boldness that had been missing the last few weeks and months, and so he came up and stood next to her, generally making a nuisance of himself until she gave him the spoon and let him drop the cookie dough, spoonful by heaping spoonful, onto the cookie sheet. She even pretended not to see when he licked his fingers.

But she couldn't pretend she didn't feel Kaiba's presence.

"Would you like something to drink?" she heard herself asking, her manners at least not failing her. "Dad said you're staying for dinner, but that won't be until Mom gets back, and if you're both hungry I'm sure we've got something for snacks – " She was already tugging open the refrigerator door, now that Mokuba had taken over the cookie-making duties. " -- we've got pop and tea and milk and -- "

It only took Kaiba four steps to cross the kitchen floor.

And just like that, he was suddenly in her personal space, reaching around her and pulling out the carafe of ice water. "Water's fine," he said, and she thought of the way the water had felt as it had spilled down her back that morning. She shivered, nipples suddenly (embarrassingly) hard.

"Hey, Anzu, how long do these have to bake for?" Mokuba asked, and she turned back towards the stove. He had cookie dough on one cheek and her mother's hot mitts on his hands.

"Whoa, let me do that," Anzu said, shutting the fridge and ducking under Kaiba's arm, even though she was reasonably sure Mokuba had been around ovens before. Or at least knew enough about ovens to know that the burns were very painful. Kaiba seemed to consider helping, but as she took the cookie sheet from Mokuba and slid it into the oven, he seemed to realize she had it under control. She wasn't sure if she liked him looking at her or not or if he was even looking at her and not Mokuba or if she was just an idiot for having such stupid thoughts.

"I'm going to pack," Mokuba announced to the kitchen-at-large. He added, unnecessarily, "For my overnight stay with Nii-sama."

Kaiba was in the process of taking Anzu's hot chocolate mug from the drying rack and pouring himself a cup of water. "Wash your face," was all he said, not bothering to turn around.

Mokuba swiped at the cookie dough with his fingers and gave one of those huge grins Anzu hadn't seen since before the whole mess had started. "Yeah, sure," he said, in that voice boys used when they had no intention of doing any such thing. "Call me when the cookies are done."

The kitchen was silent. Kaiba seemed to be more than preoccupied with drinking his water, still and serene and as if he hadn't a care in the world.

Anzu couldn't stand it, so she started to wipe up the mess Mokuba had made of the counter and then, to keep from focusing on the trembling in her fingers and legs and the way she wanted him to touch her, she started dropping the dough onto the next cookie sheet.

"Did you get into a lot of trouble?" Kaiba asked.

She had been wanting (wishing) for him to say something – anything – but still, when he said it, she dropped the spoon onto the floor with a clatter. "No, no," she said, bending down and picking it up and pretending she dropped things all the time and not because she was nervous and he had surprised her. "Mom's still rattled though."

Kaiba didn't say anything, but she saw, even from her new vantage point of the floor, the way his shoulders tensed.

"Um…not that Mom's blaming you or anything," she hastened to add. "Or, um, if she is she's not going to take it out on you, if that's what you're thinking." She felt, maybe, she should get up and go to him. Put her hand on his arm and tell him everything would be fine. Except that would be a lie, and she wasn't sure she could that.

"And so this is the part where you pat my arm and tell me everything will be fine?" he asked, sarcastic but without that bitter edge his voice was so inclined to take.

"No," she said. She couldn't touch him like that anymore, like she touched the other boys. And maybe she never could. "I can't."

He turned then, and she saw the hurt blooming in his eyes before the blue turned flat and empty. Because, of course, she had always taken great pains to treat him like everyone else, and she realized – with a start – that he had grown used to that. Grown comfortable with it. And perhaps even grown to like it.

It was odd, and it brought that horrible feeling back to the pit of Anzu's stomach that had nothing whatsoever to do with the vestiges of her hangover. That all this time, she had been trying and trying and had never noticed that he considered them something like friends after all. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that they were friends, and that was why she couldn't do it. Because he needed someone who could pat his arm and lie to him and not think about last night and this morning and want it all again. He needed someone who wasn't her. Because she was stupid, and last night was stupid, and this morning was _definitely_stupid. And now she couldn't even get close to him without_ remembering_ and _wanting_. And she thought – hoped – that he felt the same way, but this wasn't the time or the place to figure all that out. And there was no way she could articulate that all into words without sounding completely crazy. And so she just looked up at him and thought about how stupid the word stupid really was and hoped he somehow (magically) understood.

"Huh," was all he said.


	10. X

***

"Because it's not okay," she said, words tripping over her tongue in her effort to get them out. "And I'm a rotten liar."

He looked away, staring at the poster of the Cezanne's "Still Life With Apples and Oranges" that her parents had purchased at some art exhibition or another. The Musée d'Orsay's name and the dates of the exhibition were the only words on the poster. As a child, she had been fascinated by the French lettering. The language of love.

"But," she continued, swallowing hard. Because it was now or never. "I can still touch you. If you want."

He still wasn't looking at her, but she felt as if he was. As if he had peeled back her skin and was looking at her muscles and organs like she were some sort of hideous science experiment. She felt as if there should be blood all around her, puddling on the linoleum because she was bleeding to death without her skin. But there was nothing around her, only the tension and Kaiba's eyes that wouldn't look at her.

"All right," he agreed, eyes still on the poster. "I dare you."

"…what?"

His mouth twisted up into a little self-satisfied smirk. _Knew you couldn't do it_ was what the smirk said. She had seen it before, of course, namely on that horrible day at Pegasus' castle. Right after he had forced Yugi's hand and made him forfeit the duel.

"Would you have done it?" she asked him, voicing the question that had been in her mind – in all their minds – for the past year. "Would you've just given up like that? Taken that last step…" She couldn't make herself finish the sentence.

"I've never liked Cezanne," he said at length, voice rough and sounding like he'd run a marathon or smoked a pack of Marlboros or both. "All those fucking oranges. I hate oranges."

"Kaiba-kun – "

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back against the kitchen counter. "What _can_ I say?"

She wanted to cup his face with her hands, brush back his bangs, run her forefinger over the old, whitened scar against his hairline. She wanted to tell him she'd bake him a sunshine cake because that was the only way to appreciate oranges, Paul Cezanne and the French and the art critics be damned.

But to do any of that, she'd have to first get off the floor.

There were moments and then there were _moments_, and Anzu had just blundered her way into the latter. _Blunder_ was a good word, Anzu thought, in an odd moment of detachment. It sounded clumsy. Unsure. Immature.

And she was definitely all three as she pushed herself to her feet, tottering as if she were still drunk, as if she were wearing high heels instead of being bare-footed.

Still, she had the satisfaction of seeing the surprise bloom on his face as she reached forward with her free hand and grabbed hold of his cuff, felt the sharp bone of his wrist.

"Didn't think I could do it, did you?" She could barely hear her voice over the blood pounding in her ears.

"Didn't think you wanted to."

And it was as honest as she had ever heard him. The weight in her stomach was dissipating, spreading like butterflies up into her stomach, through her veins. And she didn't care if Kaiba could see it. In fact, she rather hoped he did.

She felt as if she had finally found her courage, and not anything like the Dutch courage of the night before. "You don't know what I want." Because there was no way he could know if she didn't even know. And she didn't know, or rather she _hadn't_ known. And it was rather funny that she had spent so much time trying to worm her way inside Kaiba's head, and instead, he had – effortlessly and without trying – managed to slip inside hers.

Anzu closed her fingers around his wrist. She could feel his pulse, slow and steady, under her fingertips. She twisted her thumb and forefinger, rubbing at it as if she could keep the hum of his pulse, just there beneath the skin, all to herself.

"You don't know what you want, either," he said, but it lacked the practiced polish of his usual, smart-mouthed responses. And then there was the warmth of his free hand on the curve of her hip, smoothing down over the jut of the bone.

His thumb finally settled into the crease where hip met leg, pressing so tightly against the thin material of her pajama bottoms it was like her pajamas weren't there at all. She swallowed. Tipped her chin up so she could look him in the eyes. Focused on the heat of his hand and the heat of his gaze and the flaring of heat inside her and wondered how she could suddenly just _feel_ like this. With someone she'd seen day after day for an entire year and never given a second thought.

Her fingers went slack on his wrist, and he used the newfound freedom to rub at the small of her back, a split second of gentleness before he pushed her up and into the hard, harsh lines of his body. She clutched at his suit coat lapels, buried her face in his neck, right above his shirt collar, her cheeks flushing as hot as the rest of her.

It was better than this morning, especially because she got the opportunity to open her mouth and lick at his skin. See if she were right about the taste. Heard the way he inhaled. Sharp and sweet, and she felt him stiffen between her thighs.

Even the beep of the oven timer couldn't spoil it, though when Mokuba came crashing back down the hallway and into the kitchen, she removed her fingers from Kaiba's wrist and helped Mokuba get the cookies out of the oven.

***

Dinner had an air of unreality to it. Mokuba, despite having thoroughly stuffed himself with cookies, ate enough to satisfy any number of children. Or perhaps he was eating for both himself and his brother. Kaiba wasn't really eating. Just sort of picking out bits from the curry with his chopsticks and setting it back down in another part of the bowl. She wondered if this was a usual occurrence or if he had particular dislike for this meal. She wondered if she should ask him what he liked. If she should make him _bento_ like they suggested in the teen magazines, with themed handkerchiefs and cute, molded _onigiri_.

Her mother was still hyperventilating from the night before, even if she had managed to calm down somewhat. She talked of yesterday's court hearing, of Kaiba's new set of obligations, and of the particular dangers of Domino at night. Her father seemed determined to counteract Yoshiko's pointed hints with deliberate casualness, speaking only of his afternoon at the country club and recounting several amusing anecdotes about his own horrible golf-swing. These, of course, were utter lies as Anzu knew her father had a five handicap, but the stories provided some much needed levity at the dinner table.

She wondered if Kaiba would laugh if she made him lunch. Or if he would look at her, _really_ look at her and give one of those rare, unguarded smiles of his. If perhaps –

She realized she had been asked a question.

"Sorry?" she asked.

Her mother frowned. "I asked if you had time to finish your chemistry homework," she said, obviously repeating herself.

"Um…not yet?" Anzu said, knowing this was not the response her mother wanted to hear but also knowing that any attempt to hedge her way out of this one to be a complete and utter loss.

"And yet," he mother said, voice carefully neutral, "you found the time to bake cookies."

Kennosuke cleared his throat. Her mother glared at him, and Anzu had the sneaking suspicion that he had either pinched her mother's thigh or stomped at her foot. Anzu wondered if Kaiba would ever do that to her because, all wishes to the contrary aside, she was rather like her mother in the fact that she just didn't know when to quit. Or maybe she even worse than her mother. She knew when to quit, but she just couldn't stop herself.

"What course were you at?" Mokuba asked, mouth full and eager to fill the silence that descended around the dinner table.

"Mokuba," Kaiba and Yoshiko said at the same time. "Don't talk with your mouth full." They then pretended not to glare at each other as Kennosuke seemed to struggle not to laugh.

Mokuba closed his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and then reached for his water. "God, it's in stereo now," he said.

***

Monday morning brought Kaiba back through Anzu's kitchen door, though this time, he was entirely expected. Mokuba was swigging the last of his juice, all ready to run out the door and into his brother's arms.

Kaiba had his school-issued athletics bag slung over one shoulder and a too-studied casual nod of greeting to her mother. The model student of the past few weeks had definitely returned. Mokuba walked between them on the way to school, chattering about the field trip his class was taking to the local aquarium. They dropped him off a block from the elementary school, making sure he had both his lunch and his permission slip.

"He's much happier," she said, as they watched Mokuba race towards a group of boys that were loitering by the school's jungle gym.

"Yeah," Kaiba said. Then, haltingly, "Are you – that is – could you drop him off tomorrow?"

She knew what it cost him to say that, and so she kept her flippant _Who do you think has been dropping him off for the past month or so?_ to herself. "I'll be here," she said instead.

"I can drop him off the day after," Kaiba continued, and if she hadn't seen him completely out of control over the past weekend, she would have thought him completely unconcerned. "It's just that I have early track practice tomorrow morning." He unnecessarily shifted the bag on his shoulder to emphasize.

Anzu kept her voice deliberately light. "Because of the meet tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yeah," Kaiba said. The first elementary bell rang and all the kids – Mokuba included – scattered for the school's front door. He turned and gave the two of them a final wave. Anzu grinned and waved back. Kaiba did nothing, but he waited until Mokuba had disappeared from view before turning on his heel and starting towards Domino High.

"How is it?" she asked. "Being on the track team?"

"Weird," he admitted. He shoved his hands in his pockets, but he kept his pace slow enough that she didn't have to jog to keep up with him. His lips quirked slightly. "But then I'm sure you just said that to make conversation as I know you've heard my several monologues on the subject of group activities."

"Why, Kaiba-kun," Anzu said with mock-surprise, nudging him with her shoulder as they walked. "Was that, by chance, a joke at your own expense?"

He kicked lightly at her foot. "So long as you don't tell Jounouchi."

They separated at the homeroom door: Anzu went over to Miho's desk and Kaiba went to his own, book out (Foucault at the moment – not that Anzu would admit she was monitoring his reading choices).

Kaiba's model student routine well into third period.

But then the conversational English instructor (who was new and terrified of her class) decided to pair them up and (stupidly) paired Kaiba with Jounouchi.

They managed to get into a shouting match within minutes, arguing over a verb tense that Jounouchi swore up and down was right when even Anzu (and she lacked the formative years spent with her American birthfather that Kaiba had) knew it to be incorrect.

The English instructor looked like she was going to burst into tears at any moment, and it was only due to the arrival of the math teacher from the classroom next store (wondering what the commotion was) that stopped it from becoming a fist fight. Both Kaiba and Jounouchi were sent into the hall to contemplate their wrongs, and class – haltingly – started back up again.

Anzu had been partnered with Yugi, and usually he ranked up there with Miho and Honda in terms of her three favourite classmates to be partnered with. But there were too many things they weren't talking about. Too many things she didn't want to hear, and too many things she didn't want to tell him, and it made her feel both simultaneously relieved and like a terrible friend.

And so her smile was extra fake and her laugh extra false, and Yugi seemed to be more withdrawn and living inside his head than normal, and she couldn't wait for class to end.

They had a math quiz fourth period, and afterwards, Anzu escaped to lunch, making sure to keep away from the familiar haunts of cafeteria and the school roof. She wound up on the front steps of the school, sort of poking at her lunch and wishing that she were somebody else. Anyone else. Or at the very least, very far away and living another life.

And then she thought about what a coward she was, and wondered what had ever happened to the Mazaki Anzu that had – just Saturday afternoon – reached out and literally _grabbed_ what she wanted from life.

It was during this bout of self-pity that a lanky boy in a dark-blue uniform settled down next to her.

"Go away, Jounouchi-kun," she said.

"He's looking for you," Kaiba said. "So's Yugi, actually."

She lifted her head and hooked her hair behind her ears.

He picked up one of her kappa rolls. "They're all worried about you," he said and popped the kappa roll into his mouth. "And let's face it," he said as he ate another kappa roll. "This," and he gestured – wide and dramatic like he did during his duels – and she smelled the licorice and some sort of spicy hair gel, "isn't you."

She looked down at her rapidly disappearing lunch. "I guess I deserved that, didn't I?" Because God knew she had been pushing Kaiba to own up to his mistakes since day one. And Kaiba had always been more than able to dish out as good as he got.

She could feel his eyes on her. "I think you deserve," he said, voice low, and Anzu really wasn't sure she wanted to hear this, not at school and possibly not ever, because once he said – once he _confirmed_ – there was no going back, "_everything._"

And her legs were jelly, breath jerky, as she reached blindly for his hand. Squeezed it extra-tight, like he was somehow going to disappear off another parapet if she didn't give the right answer.

"I'm going to make you your own lunch from now on," she said at length. "Because this eating mine thing? Really isn't going to work."

***


End file.
